


Brothers no more

by aflyingcontradiction



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Magic, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 00:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12399567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aflyingcontradiction/pseuds/aflyingcontradiction
Summary: An old warlock returns to the place of his apprenticeship. He has left more than just childhood memories there.Inspired by the song "Zaubererbruder" by Asp





	Brothers no more

It was late morning when I walked through the city gates. For a moment, I found myself unable to walk on. So many memories were flooding my brain that I could not hold back an audible gasp.

“Sir, is everything alright?” a young guard asked me. 

“Yes, yes, of course,” I said, waving him away. The last thing I wanted to do right now was to explain myself to this boy!

I took a deep breath to steel myself and marched on. It was odd, seeing this place again. It seemed that time had stood still inside the city walls. All the houses still looked the same. Not a single cobble in the road seemed to have changed. I could have found my way with my eyes closed. Even the smell was still the same, horse manure and chimney smoke and just beneath it, the soft fragrance of the flowers growing on dozens of balconies. For a beautiful minute I felt like I was twenty again.

Until I heard a young boy’s voice shouting: “Look, mum, a warlock!”

I looked around to see the young mother, red-faced and frantically shushing her little boy. I forced my face into a friendly smile, waving off her apology, but smiling did not come easy to me. I did not recognise her. She wouldn’t have been born when I had left.

What saddened me even more than the reminder of how long I had been gone was the excitement of the boy at seeing the unmistakable marks on my face. Meeting a warlock was clearly not an everyday experience for him. What had happened to the Master and his students? Was the castle still standing? Was Ivar even still alive? Maybe I had travelled for weeks on a foolish whim!

I was about to approach the young mother, but she had already scooped up her child and left. Sighing, I decided that if I had to cope with any more disappointment today, I would first need some rest. After all, I had travelled all through the night and even a warlock’s strength was not limitless. 

I walked down the streets until, at the end of a dingy alleyway, I saw the sign of the Limping Wyvern, dangling in the wind. It seemed the sign hadn’t been repainted since my last visit, nor had anyone bothered to fix up the inn itself. It looked as dilapidated as ever. I couldn’t help but smile. At least some things hadn’t changed.

When I entered the inn, it was completely empty but for the barman. For a moment I fully expected old Philip to grunt a morning greeting at me, but when the barman turned to face me, it was a far younger man, maybe in his late thirties, whom I had never seen before. Of course, Philip had been old even when I had last seen him. He would be long dead and gone by now.

The new barman was giving me a rather baffled look.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Huh? … Oh yes, good morning. I wasn’t expecting customers this early.”

I could have guessed as much from how flustered he was. 

“Let alone such esteemed…”

“That’s alright,” I said, cutting him off before he could launch into a speech about what an honour it was to have a warlock in his humble establishment. I had heard quite enough insincere flattery in my travels to last me several lifetimes. I just hadn’t expected it here of all places. Philip had been far more likely to toss us out on our ear than to gush.

“I’d like some hot milk and a room, please. I’ve travelled all night.”

“Of course, sir. You must be tired. I can bring your drink up to your room, if you would like.”

I nodded.

“If you would follow me…”

As we walked up the creaky stairs, I decided this was as good of a time as any to ask the question that had been weighing on my mind: “So you don’t get many warlocks in here?”

“Oh? Did I do something wrong, sir? I apolo-”

“No, no, not at all,” I assured him. “Just a hunch of mine.” 

I wasn’t about to tell him that he was acting like a headless chicken and have him break down so completely he could no longer tell me what I longed to know.

“Well, yes, you’re the first warlock in here in months.”

“I’ve heard there’s a castle of warlocks nearby…”

“Oh yes, up on the hill,” the innkeeper waved his hand vaguely eastward. “But they keep to themselves. Their master sometimes sends students down to run errands for him, but I think he has them on a pretty short leash.”

That sounded quite like him, but why did none of the students ever show up at the Wyvern? Ivar and I had snuck down here so often all the regulars knew our names.

\----------------------------------------------

“SE-VE-RIIIIIN! PLEASE! WAIT!”

“What?”

“We’re not supposed to be down here!”

“Who cares?”

“We haven’t even finished the ritual, the Master will flay us alive if he finds out we’ve left.”

“Aw, come on, Ivar, like everyone doesn’t know you finished days ago.”

“Yeah, but Kade hasn’t.”

“Not our problem, is it?”

“I promised I’d help him.”

“Oh, alright, I’ll just pop into the Wyvern for a minute, have a pint, see if Vera is there and then we can go straight back.”

“Yeah, great idea, and have Philip chase you halfway home with a broom for making pretty eyes at his daughter. Again.”

“He didn’t catch me, did he? … Oh, don’t make a face, you just don’t like Vera.”

“I like Vera alright, I just don’t like the idea of you getting in trouble.”

“Quit whining already! Hey! Last to the Wyvern is wet blanket!”

“OH COME ON! SEVERIN! NOT FAIR!”

\----------------------------------------------

I couldn’t help but smile at the memory. I had been such a little brat back then. I’d thought the world was mine for the taking and that nothing and nobody could stand in my way. The foolishness of childhood. Oh, Ivar, you deserved better.

“Sir?”

“Huh?” 

“Your room, sir.”

“Oh, yes, of course. … Say, do you happen to know of a woman called Vera? She would be around my age.”

The innkeeper’s eyebrows rose up into his hairline.

“You know my mother?”

“Oh, so you’re …” Philip’s grandson. Vera’s son. A grown man. Maybe with a family of his own? “Well, I wouldn’t say I know her. We’ve met.” And kissed, much to the chagrin of both Philip and - to my astonishment - Ivar. I had been such a fool!

“She died a few years ago,” sighed the innkeeper.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said and took a deep breath. I should have expected this. She had been old. But then, so was I. So was Ivar. What if I was too late?

“Thank you. She was the life of this place until her very last day. My brothers and sisters have all left since then. It has gotten awfully quiet in here…”

I wasn’t sure what to respond. We stood by the door of the room in awkward silence for a moment until the innkeeper finally excused himself to go prepare my drink.

\----------------------------------------------

Although the bed was comfortable, I did not sleep well. I kept having disturbing dreams, made half of memory, half of fear. Ivar and I clasping hands as the Master scratched the signs of the brotherhood into our faces, casting the spells that would make them grow as our powers did. Ivar caught in the body of a crow after a ritual gone wrong. Ivar on the ground, dead, blood running from his eyes, and the Master laughing in the background. Ivar screaming at me “WHY? WHY DID YOU DO IT? COWARD!”

And always, again and again, those fateful words: “I don’t want to be your brother anymore, Severin.”

I rolled out of bed some hours later feeling less rested than when I had fallen asleep. Outside, the sun was just going down. I groaned. My plan had been to arrive at the castle in daylight. So much for that. 

For a moment I considered waiting in my room for the sun to rise again, but the air in here was getting stale and I felt that if I stayed even one more minute, I would suffocate. 

On my way out the door I dropped a bag of money on the bar, then I was gone.

Two steps from the door, I pulled a bottle of blood and wine out of my coat, tipped some of its contents into my mouth and grimaced. Even after decades I had never gotten used to the bitter, metallic taste.

As I allowed some of the liquid to dribble down my chin and painted my scars with it in practiced gestures, I remembered the night when I had first drunk some of this magical concoction. I had promptly thrown up on my feet and collapsed. While our brothers had taken to the skies, Ivar had stayed behind to care for me as feathers sprouted painfully on part of my body and my feet turned into claws and back again for hours until I thought I would go mad with agony.

\----------------------------------------------

“You know you can add sugar to it? I read that in one of the Master’s books. Makes it easier to stomach.”

“You read the Master’s books? Are you mad?”

“He won’t find out if you don’t tell him.”

“Course I won’t tell him.”

\----------------------------------------------

“I don’t want to be your brother anymore, Severin.”

\----------------------------------------------

To this day I still used Ivar’s trick and had never thrown up midways through a spell since then, but it was still a disgusting process. Worth it, though, I thought as I jumped into the air and spread my wings. 

I remembered distinctly the first time Ivar and I had successfully turned into birds. Ivar had promptly plummeted from the sky after two flaps of his wings. After making sure he was unhurt, I had started cackling like a maniac - which must have looked rather ridiculous given that I was a robin at the time - only to fall as well when a gust of wind threw me off balance. 

Neither of us had been hurt, unless you counted our sore stomach muscles from laughing so hard at each other, but we certainly never lived it down either. I wondered if ‘A little robin once told me that pride comes before the fall’ was still a running gag. Probably not after so many years. Or maybe it had turned into one of those sayings of which nobody knew the origin. Even when I had left there had been young students, nine or ten years old, who had only just joined us in the castle and who used that phrase when even the pitiful trace of humour it had once contained had long faded.

Of course, after decades of transformation, the wind had become my best friend. I soared through the air with ease, enjoying the refreshing coolness in my feathered face.   
Tonight I had chosen the form of an owl. Even in the dim light of the waning moon, I could make out even the tiniest detail of the path below me. 

Soon I had reached the foot of the hill on which the castle stood. I landed on a tree to rest. And to rethink my decision once again.

The Master wouldn’t be happy to see me again. We hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms. 

\----------------------------------------------

“Kade is dead.”

“I know, my boy. It was a regretful acci-”

“It wasn’t an accident. You killed him! You knew that would happen! You knew he’d been sick! You knew he was too weak to withstand it! YOU NEVER TOLD US YOU WERE SIPHONING OUR ENERGY WITH THAT RITUAL!”

“Watch - your - tongue, Severin! Do not forget your place.”

“Forget my … How dare … I can’t believe ... I … I know what you’re doing. Immortality! Convenient that you’ve got thirty boys in here to suck dry! Well, twenty-nine now. That must really pain you!”

“So you were the one who snuck into my private library.”

“Huh? What do you … Yes! Yes, I did! What of it? You weren’t about to tell us you were killing us! VAMPIRE!”

“ENOUGH! You signed the contract of apprenticeship, every single one of you, in your own blood…”

“We never agreed to DIE FOR YOU!”

“You promised unquestioning obedience until you have completed your studies and I release you out into the world!”

“We were children! Our parents would never have released us into your care if they had known…”

“Your parents didn’t give a damn as long as somebody else stuffed food into your hungry mouths!”

“Liar! Fucking … OUCH!”

“This discussion is over. This is your last warning. Go - to - bed.”

\----------------------------------------------

I left the castle a couple of days later with Ivar’s help without ever speaking to the Master again. Of course, today I had nothing to fear from him. I had finished my studies travelling the world. I had become an adept, then a master in my own right. I was easily as powerful as him now. He could try to attack me again. I would make him regret it if he did. But Ivar...  
Why had he never told me the truth? We would have found a way…

All I could do was hope that the Master had not hurt him in a fit of anger. Or drained him in a ritual. Ivar had always been stronger than the rest of us taken together, but could he have survived decades at the Master’s mercy? And if he had found the strength to survive, had he also found the strength to forgive me, though I had never done anything to deserve it.

\----------------------------------------------

“I don’t want to be your brother anymore, Severin.”

\----------------------------------------------

I sat in that tree for several hours, unable to make myself move, afraid of what I would find when I reached the castle. I should have returned years ago. Why hadn’t I? I’d been a coward. A traitor. What would I tell Ivar, if he was still alive? I could tell him I hadn’t known. That was the truth, after all! But only part of it. 

I had travelled far and wide, I’d been to every continent, learned magic beyond anything that the Master had ever taught us, probably beyond anything that he ever knew existed. I had spent nights dancing with demons and absorbing their power. I had slain dragons and used their blood in potions that healed entire villages of wasting diseases. I had found a spell to mask my sins and let a unicorn rest in my lap. I had discovered and read ancient texts in dozens of languages and based inventions of my own on the work of warlocks long dead and gone. 

And yet I had never wondered, never thought to research how Ivar had succeeded in breaking the Master’s hold on me, never questioned for a moment his claim that he had simply snuck into the Master’s library, as he had done so often, had finally managed to translate that one book …

\----------------------------------------------

“Master Severin?”

“Yes, Alma?”

“I wanted to ask you something about blood contracts.”

“Are you unhappy with your contract? You know I will release you the very moment you ask.”

“No, no, not at all. It’s a good contract. I want to keep studying here. No, I was just wondering if you could explain something I’ve read. Here…”

“My! Alma! Is that…”

“Yeah, that scroll you found. I know you said you were going to undo the protection yourself, but you did say we could try…”

“So I did. I confess, I did not expect you to succeed. I’m impressed.”

“Thank you … it’s a really interesting text, too, but I don’t get this part here.”

“Ah yes, some of these runes are rather rare. This one is ‘a person showing love’ or ‘a beloved’ and this one translates approximately to ‘a near unbreakable magical bond’. So…”

“Yeah, so it’s saying that any contract can be superseded by a loved one making a sacrifice and creating a stronger bond.”

“Yes. So, for instance, if you wanted to leave…”

“I really, really don’t! You’re a great teacher, Master!”

“Ah, don’t flatter an old man, Alma, you teach yourself more than I do these days. But hypothetically, if you wanted to leave and I refused to let you out of your contract, you would have to find someone who truly loves you. They would have to freely and willingly enter into a bond with me that is stronger than the one you have, then I would not be able to reject the substitute. So because you are bound for fourteen years…”

“They’d have to stay for twenty-eight. Or they’d have to bind themselves more strongly to you than I did. I get that. What I don’t get is that it says ‘any’ contract. But it can’t work for any contract! It would be easy to make a contract so strong no substitute could break it and I don’t understand why they don’t even mention that here. I mean, wasn’t it customary at some point for masters to bind their students mind, body and soul for however long they wished until they released the student from the contract? … Master Severin?”

“Yes, yes, that certainly was customary.”

“Well, then, how would you ever make a stronger bond than that? … Master? … If I’m bothering you I can come back later.”

“You’re not. It’s a very good question. I really see only one way: The loved one could bind themselves to the soul of the contract maker.”

“But isn’t that already the case?”

“No, not generally. Most contracts concern the physical body of the contract maker only. There would be no need for any master to bind a student to their soul. What use would they have for students or servants when their physical body has decayed?”

“So if the loved one’s bound to the contract maker’s soul - would that mean they die when the contract maker dies?”

“I - I don’t believe so. The imprint of a soul persists in this world after death. That may … be enough. But they would have to …”

“Master?”

“They would have to … stay …”

“Master Severin? Is everything okay? Are you ill? Should I get help?” 

“I … am fine. I … just need to think.”

\----------------------------------------------

The fact of the matter was, I had pushed the thought from my mind. It had not forced its way back until Alma - brilliant and infuriating as she was - had rubbed my nose in it. I was a liar. I was a coward. I was a traitor. I was the worst…

CRACK! 

“OUCH! OH DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!”

In my fit of self-pity I hadn’t noticed that I was moulting. Having missed all signs of my imminent return to a human form, I hadn’t gotten off the thin branch in time - with the inevitable result. 

Slowly I got off the ground, rubbing my aching behind. At least nobody was around to see me embarrass myself. What an undignified mistake to make!

Maybe the fall had shaken something loose within me. As I dusted myself off, I glanced at the castle in the distance and suddenly I had enough! Enough of all the fear and the guilt and the sadness! I had been a cringing coward for far too long! I was damn well going to get my act together, march up to that castle and if Ivar was still alive, I would ask him for forgiveness. I owed him that much. And if the Master decided to get in my way, I would give him what he deserved.

With new determination I marched up the hill to the castle. The path remained thankfully empty, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Until, that is, I very nearly collided with three small figures barrelling down the hill.

“HEY THERE! CAREFUL!”

“Oops, sorry, sir, didn’t see … woah. Look!”

The youngest of the group was the first to look at me and notice the unmistakable marks of a master warlock on my face. I, too, had noticed that all three of the children were wearing apprenticeship marks on their faces. To my surprise, the oldest was a girl, aged about twelve or thirteen.

“Don’t gape!” she chided the youngest boy, then turned to me. “I’m sorry, sir, we have never seen a master warlock other than our own master.”

The girl was biting her lip and shuffling her feet, reminding me a little of a younger Alma.

“That is quite alright,” I said, smiling the kindest smile I could muster. 

Judging by the worried looks on the face of the children, I hadn’t succeeded. The youngest child even took a step back.

“Is the Master expecting you?” asked the girl.

“No, he probably isn’t.”

“Should we tell him you’re coming?”

“Oh, don’t bother. He will find out soon enough.”

I still had some small hope that I would be able to talk to Ivar before the Master intervened. I knew it was a silly hope. After all, he had lost an apprentice simply because he hadn’t protected his library well enough. He had probably covered every inch of the castle and the grounds with layers upon layers of surveillance spells the moment he noticed I was gone.

Besides, it turned out the girl was having none of it: “We’ll just run up and let him know. He doesn’t like unannounced guests.”

“But the berries!” said the middle child, pointing with a forlorn face at an empty basket in his hand.

“Go on down then, I’ll join you later.”

“But they’re still all green and bitter,” whined the youngest. “And we don’t know how to do that growth spell. And we’re not allowed...”

“Urgh, you’re so childish!” 

“I could help you out with that spell,” I offered.

“Really, sir?”

“Great! That would be…”

“... absolutely unnecessary,” the girl interrupted, then hissed to her companions, just loud enough for me to hear: “Are you crazy? We don’t even know him!”

She glared at me as though I had threatened her young companions and said, her voice cold as ice: “I will be letting the Master know. You can wait by the gates, sir.”

She grabbed the boys by the hand, muttered an incantation and the three shot up the hill so fast that soon they were a blur in the distance.

I had to admit, I was a little hurt. Never before had anyone found me so untrustworthy that they thought they had to use an immensely draining spell to get away from me as fast as possible. And to flee back to the Master, a man so intimidating he had given me nightmares as a child, even before I had realised he was using our energy to fuel his own powers? For a moment, I felt like stamping my foot and pouting. 

I fought down the childish impulse. Who knew what the Master was telling these children. He had never been one to mingle with equally powerful warlocks, preferring to keep the company of those he could control. My successful escape couldn’t have helped matters. He may well have cautioned them against all warlocks outside the castle. Maybe he had told them the whole outside world was dangerous. Poor children. They would never develop their powers properly, holed up in that castle. But then he didn’t want them to, did he?

I thought of Ivar - decades locked up behind those walls for my sake. Why hadn’t I stayed?

\----------------------------------------------

“I don’t want to be your brother anymore, Severin.”

\----------------------------------------------

Right, that is why I hadn’t. Because I had no more spine than a common garden worm. For a moment, when I’d seen the children flee, I had the urge to abandon all of this, to turn back, to return to my own students and forget that I had ever lived in the castle on the hill. But I had already ruined Ivar’s life with my cowardice. At the very least he deserved an apology.

Enough with these doubts! How could I ever show myself to my students again if I didn’t go through with this?

With perhaps unnecessary force I stomped up the hill, making several rabbits by the path flee for their lives. Before I knew it, I had arrived at the gate. I put my hand on it, half-expecting it to open for me as it had when I was a boy. Of course, it remained resolutely closed. The castle no longer recognised me as one of its own. So I waited.

And I waited. 

Maybe the children hadn’t told the Master of my arrival? But even if they hadn’t, a bell would have rung in his study the moment I had approached the gate. What was taking him so long? 

My heart was beating hard against my throat now. Images were flooding my brain of long forgotten incidents. Nights spent in dark cellars desperately trying to memorise a long incantation, afraid I would be left to starve in the darkness if I couldn’t. Catching Ivar comforting a younger student after the Master had unburdened his own frustration on them. Pain and fear and hopelessness all came crashing down on me so hard that I nearly started to cry. I hadn’t been this afraid since before I had left the castle.

No! No, he wasn’t going to do this to me! Not now! I was not only a grown man, but a powerful warlock and this was ridiculous. I would wait out here for him and when he showed up I would look him in the eye and tell him “I need to speak to Ivar” and if he didn’t let me past, I would blast him out of the way.

Again and again I muttered the words ‘I need to speak to Ivar’, afraid that I was going to turn mute the moment I stood face to face with the Master. 

I nearly forgot to breathe when I saw the doors of the castle open and a stooped figure walking out toward me. This was it. This was the moment.

“I need to speak to Ivar. I need to speak to Ivar. I need to …”

The figure held out his hand and the gate flew open.

“I need to…”

A few more steps and he was within arm’s reach of me.

“speak to…”

Despite what I had promised myself, I was now looking at the ground rather than his face.

“Severin? Is it really you?”

My head shot up.

“... Ivar.”

The man standing in front of me wasn’t the Master, although he had the markings of a master warlock and the pulses of magic I could feel radiating off him were so strong they made me shiver. I certainly could not have blasted him out of the way. But I didn’t have to. His face may have aged but the scent of his powers was unmistakable. And he, too, had recognised me the moment he had laid eyes on me.

“Severin. It is really you. When the children told me there was a master warlock coming this way, I never would have guessed … I never thought … you’ve come back. You’ve actually come back.”

The look of disbelief slowly gave way to a smile.

“Ivar…” I began but suddenly I didn’t know how to go on. How did you apologise to someone you had doomed to living out the rest of his life in a castle filled with more sad memories than any one human being should have to cope with.

Instead, I asked: “So, you are their Master?”

He nodded.

“What happened to…” I gestured vaguely in the direction of the castle, but Ivar grasped my meaning.

“He’s dead.”

“Dead. My god,” I said. I’d known, of course, the moment Ivar had opened the gate instead of the Master. Still, hearing the actual words from Ivar stunned me. “How?”

“There were loopholes in his contracts that he didn’t anticipate,” Ivar said, his face sombre. 

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“He never thought one of us could become powerful enough to harm him. So he never protected himself.”

It took me a moment to understand what Ivar had just said.

“You killed him?” I gasped.

Ivar nodded. “I didn’t want to. I didn’t hate him the way you did. If it hadn’t been for him a lot of us would never have survived our childhoods.” 

For a moment I thought I saw tears glistening in Ivar’s eyes. Then a visible shudder ran through his body and with a voice hard as stone he said: “But he was selfish. He had to go. Before he killed anyone else.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I simply nodded.

“But come in, you must have had a long journey. Well, come on. Don’t just stand there looking … don’t just stand there.”

I hadn’t moved at all, although he had stepped aside to let me pass. What was I supposed to do now? I’d expected to face the Master. I’d been steeling myself at the very least for a shouting match, if not a heroic battle ending in the Master’s death. I’d been imagining falling at Ivar’s feet, injured, exhausted, an apology on my lips as he screamed accusations at me and then finally, after hours of shouting, forgave me for what I had done to him.

But here I was, as unlikely to spout heroic speeches as Ivar was to give me either the judgment or the absolution I craved. All he did was smile at me in that tired way of his as he waved me inside. I followed, because I did not know what else to do.

We walked in silence. I could feel Ivar’s last words to me hover in the air between us.

\----------------------------------------------

“I don’t want to be your brother anymore, Severin.”

\----------------------------------------------

Neither of us said a single word until we were halfway up the stairs when a teenage girl bumped into us. She was wearing a long coat, by which Ivar immediately grabbed her.

“And where do you think you’re going, young lady?”

She blushed a deep red as she mumbled: “Just the garden.”

“Having a picnic in the garden then? I see.” 

Ivar gave her a look somewhere between amusement and disapproval, making her blush an even deeper red and pull out a tiny picnic basket she had been hiding under her cloak, clearly the result of a misfired shrinking incantation.

“Sorry, Master,” the girl mumbled.

“I know he’s handsome but you know the rules.”

The girl groaned loudly and stomped back up the stairs. 

“I don’t like locking them up here,” said Ivar, “but they can’t be sneaking off on their own like we used to. I don’t want to spy on them but I need to know where they are and I only ever let them go out in groups. If anything were to happen to them … I can only reach the bottom of the hill, any further than that and I can’t help them.”

Months of thinking about what it would be like to meet Ivar again and yet I had never truly believed I would get to this point. I had no plan for what to say. The words just began to spill out of me: “I never meant for any of this to happen. I didn’t realise that you had tied yourself to this castle to free me. If I had known … If I had guessed … I never would have left.”

Ivar gave me a sad little smile but said nothing. Maybe it was my own guilty conscience but the disappointment and disbelief etched in his face made me flinch.

“It’s a good thing you left,” he said. “You would have wilted like a flower in the desert, stuck in this place with me. It seems you have prospered. You’ve become a master.” His hand traced the scars of my mastery in the air in front of my face, careful never to get close enough to touch me.

“Yes. It was one of my students who made me return to you. I was explaining blood contracts to her and suddenly I realised like I never had before … not in decades. I have no excuse for that. When I realised, I packed my bags that very day and rushed back to you. I … I was hoping … that I’d still find you here.”

“Where would I have gone?” asked Ivar and the bitterness was dripping from his voice.

“I was worried you might be …” I looked at his face and the thought weighed down my tongue. I couldn’t speak the word.

“Dead?” Ivar asked. “Yes, I am also surprised I am still alive. The Master’s soul … it calls to me, sometimes, at night.”

I must have looked terrified, because Ivar reached out a hand and grabbed my arm like I was about to fall. Like I was the one who needed support.

“I’m not about to give in to the call. I can’t. My students need me.” He looked away from me, so I very nearly missed what he whispered next: “And I’m scared. I don’t want to die.”

Now it was me who grabbed Ivar’s arm: “I never should have abandoned you. I was stupid. I was wrong. I am so sorry.”

“It was my fault. I scared you away, reckless as I was. I should have known you’d never feel the same way I felt.”

\----------------------------------------------

“You’re free now.”

“Really? How did you do it?”

“A spell from the Master’s books. I released you from the contract. He has no hold over you now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Completely.”

“Oh my god, Ivar, you are the best. You are, by far, the greatest brother in magic any warlock could ever hope for!”

“What if …”

“What? What is it?”

“What if I don’t want to be your brother anymore?”

“What do you mean? What did I do? Please, tell me.”

“I don’t want to be your brother anymore, Severin. Not just your brother.”

\----------------------------------------------

And then he had kissed me. And I had pulled away. And I had run. I had run, even though the kiss had sent shivers of pleasure down my spine. I had run, even though I’d dreamt of a kiss like that since I was thirteen years old and I had first realised that I liked Vera and Ivar in the same way, that actually - maybe I liked Ivar a lot more.

I’d been a coward. But no more.

“You’re wrong. I did feel the same way. I still do. There’s been nobody since you. I couldn’t forget you. But I’ve never been brave like you. I was terrified. I didn’t know what the Master would say or the other boys. I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling yet. So I ran. I half-expected you to come after me. I never realised you couldn’t, so when you didn’t, I thought you must hate me because I left. And the Master - he would have killed me if I’d returned. Ivar…”

I noticed I was making excuses and fell silent. Ivar just looked at me with that tired, sad smile of his, saying nothing. I would have felt better if he had screamed.

“I am so sorry, Ivar. Nothing can excuse what I did to you. I abandoned you for so long, even though I loved you. Love you. Still do. Always will. I came back because I wanted you to know. I am sorry. I love you, Ivar.”

Tears were streaming freely down my face now. Ivar was still smiling but his cheeks were wet, too, and it took every bit of restraint I had taught myself in all those lonely decades to keep myself from pulling him into a tight hug. We stood there, facing each other, both crying for what felt like an eternity, neither of us caring that heads were now poking out of every door on the floors above and below us and curious whispers filled the entire castle.

Finally, Ivar gave a big gulp and said: “I am glad you came. It is lonely here sometimes.”

The words were out of my mouth before I realised how stupid they sounded: “We could start over!”

Ivar frowned at me through his tears.

“I’m sorry, that’s not … really what I meant. I can’t undo what I did. There’s no turning back time.”

I knew that for a fact, because I had spent about a decade of my life trying to invent one and had very nearly killed myself in the process not once, but on four separate occasions.

“But we are still alive. We still have time.”

“We’re old now,” muttered Ivar.

“Yes, but our magic might keep us strong for another four or five decades. Even without using the ways of our Master, there are methods! We could spend that time together. As lovers. Like we were meant to. Like we would have…”

… if I hadn’t ruined it.

Ivar turned away from me. His head sank against the wall. 

“Severin,” he whispered to the floor. 

My heart sank. There was no need for him to say anything else. I knew he was not going to forgive me. I had known this might happen, even in the unlikely case I found Ivar alive and well. I had found him alive. That was the best that could be said. Of course he would not forgive me. Fifty years of fear and isolation and bitter, terrible, mind-destroying loneliness, all for my sake and I had repaid him with my disregard. He deserved to hold that grudge. I ought to be glad he had not thrown me from the castle. Glad he had not killed me, in fact, as a less noble man might have. 

I had known he might not forgive me and yet, my heart broke when Ivar spoke again: “It has been too long. I am sorry.”

I found it hard to speak when all I wanted to do was sob, but somehow I managed to force out a handful of words: “You have nothing to be sorry about.”

I turned to leave, but I had barely taken a single step when Ivar gripped me by the arm, hard enough to make me yelp in surprise.

“Don’t leave me again, Severin. Please. It’s so lonely here. Stay. At least for a while. Tell me about the world out there. Tell me about your students. Please.”

I gaped at him for a moment.

“You … want me to … stay? But…”

“I can understand if you don’t want to,” Ivar said, sadly. “You’ve been out in the world. This castle must feel like a prison to you.”

“No! Ivar! I will stay as long as you will have me.” 

“But your students! Surely you must return to them.”

“My students travelled with me. I left them behind only a week ago. I can send for them. They can join us here and learn together with your students! We can teach all of them together, it can only benefit them to be taught the knowledge of two masters.”

My last words echoed from the castle walls, making me flinch. I hadn’t realised quite how loud I had become in my excitement. Ivar turned away again. I had moved too fast, hadn’t I? I had gone too far!

When Ivar turned back to me, a many-mouthed gasp echoed through the castle. It seemed our audience was as eager to hear what he had to say as I was.

“I think…,” Ivar began.

I held my breath.

“I think I would like that. Maybe we could be brothers again. At least for now. If that would be alright with you,” he said, sounding just like he had as a young man.

“Yes, it would,” I practically shouted, then squealed in surprise as Ivar pulled me into a rib-cracking hug. 

“I’m happy to have you back, Severin.”

And those were the best words I could ever have imagined hearing.


End file.
